Sweeter than Rootbeer?
by That Kid With the Long Coat
Summary: Cas finds himself drunk, distracted, alone, and horny. Part one of a possibly three part fic.
1. Sweeter than Rootbeer?

Written while bedridden and sick. Sorry if it sucks, but I needed something to do while I was bored.. No, the title really doesn't make sense (at least until, like, the last-ish sentence), but I suck at titles anyways.

**Summary:** Cas finds himself drunk, distracted, alone, and horny. Part one of a possibly three part fic.  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Humor/General  
><strong>Rated:<strong> M, just to be safe.  
><strong>Language:<strong> English, obviously  
><strong>Length:<strong> Approximately 2,044 words.

**Warning:** Megstiel implied within, along with Destiel and Sastiel. Mentions of other pairings as well. Don't like don't read. Seriously. Anyways, read, enjoy, review. Or whatever.

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><p>"Well, hello there <em>Clarence<em>. I wasn't expecting to see you here..."

The angel whipped around so fast he almost fell off of his bar stool. Frowning, it took him a moment to recognize the figure standing next to him - leaning over the bar, swaying her hips slowly, seductively. He subconsciously licked his lips, making the girl giggle musically.

Castiel paused, gritting his teeth. "...Meg," he muttered, clenching his glass so hard he could hear it straining. Within moments, the drink was at his lips and he threw it back hurriedly, the resulting burning sensation satisfying. The demon smiled broadly and sat on the edge of the stool next to his, leather-clad legs brushing his own. Cas closed his eyes, brows furrowing. Of all the places to catch him, she had to be at a bar while he was trying to drown everything the Dean Winchester way - with alcohol.

Meg bit her bottom lip and the angel could hear her heart beat in tune to the electro-pop music blasting through the bar. Cas didn't know the song, or the band, or why humans supposedly enjoyed listening to the ear-splitting noise at such an obnoxious level. Castiel waved over the bartender to refill his glass.

There was an awkward silence as Meg sat beside him, casually brushing her legs against his as he slowly swallowed his whiskey. Suddenly, Meg turned to face him, hand on his arm.

"So, Cas, what'cha doing here, hun? Rough day?" she smirked, flashing white teeth, brown eyes sparkling with something Cas couldn't recognize. His blue eyes caught the flush in her cheeks, and the red of her lips; the angel soon began to wonder what it would feel like to capture those lips once more, taste them, and again run his fingers through the soft, auburn hair.

_No_, he commanded himself, forcing the images away. It was the alcohol, he reasoned, that was making Meg - a _demon_ - so attractive. It was the alcohol that was making his lips dry, the alcohol that was making him sweat, his heart speed up, the alcohol making him _want_ Meg.

He shook his head, layed down a stack of bills, and rose to his feet.

"Goodbye, Meg."

The demon frowned, lips pouting, and Castiel had to summon all of his will power to turn around and walk away. After three steps, he disappeared. Meg pursed her lips, before ordering her own drink, and made herself comfortable...

* * *

><p>Outside of the bar, Castiel ran a hand through his hair. It was surprisingly quiet, and the cool air felt good on his face. Now that he was away from Meg, he was beginning to feel more like himself, and he began walking briskly down the sidewalk. He knew Dean and Sam were - probably - worrying about him. The angel had neglected charging his new phone, and he hadn't bothered to bring it along after it had died. It was probably still laying on the window sill where he had left it, he mused, a corner of his lips twitching upwards almost imperceptibly.<p>

The angel gazed at the sky, as he often did to comtemplate the wonders he always spotted, but the street lights were too bright to see stars. He was slightly disappointed, but he had bigger problems. The alcohol, while bubbling acidically in his empty stomach, still did it's job of slowing down his thoughts, and heartbeat; numbing him, while _not_ leavng him completely useless and unable to think logically.

On the way back to the motel, Cas managed to think of a great many things; past experiences with Meg, past experiences with Dean, experiences with Meg and Dean, the Winchesters and what they would say if they knew he was thinking about Meg, how they hated Meg, and what she had done. What he himself had done. How he probably shouldn't have left that bar because he wasn't quite as drunk as he wanted to be. At least he wouldn't wake up to a splitting headache in the morning. Given that he could sleep... He had reached the point in his falling where he wasn't sure what he could and couldn't do.

Yes, he could "zap," as Dean called it, from place to place in a blink of an eye; he could heal; he could read minds; but he didn't know if he could do other such things, such as die; or feel emotion; or... well, sleep. He hadn't tried. The angel of course hoped he could; it seemed like a lovely escape; Sam's nightmares were non-existent when he was asleep, and he was finally able to relax in a place where Lucifer couldn't terrorize him - Castiel wouldn't let him. Even the deep frown lines erased themselves from Dean's face when he slept, and if Cas was lucky, he could catch a smile upon those lips.

When Castiel finally reached the door to the motel he had a firm resolve to ask Dean where he had hidden the alcohol, what the quantity was, and where exactly he was to sleep again before he would curl up with a "bottle of Jack" and "die." Or "crash." The angel didn't particularly care. But when he appeared on the other side of the door - he had never quite gotten the hang of operating doors; they always seemed to come off their hinges when he opened them when he was in a hurry - the Winchesters were no where in sight.

A frown creased his brow as he searched the apartment quietly, catching no sign of life, but a sign that the Winchesters had expected him back. A note - written on the back of a crumpled receipt - was laying on the table.

**Porthos d'Artagnan,**

**Went on a beer run. Don't know where the hell you are, but we'll be back soon. Don't get into trouble. We ****will**** find out.**

**Athos and Aramis**

Cas took a moment to decipher this. He knew that Athos and Aramis are two of the Three Musketeers, _Les Trois Mousquetaires_, and Porthos is the third. D'Artagnan happened to join the trio, and bonded particularly with Athos, the oldest of the three. He began thinking and quickly recalled the week previous, making him chuckle. Of course, Dean was still humoring him by filling their lives with Three Musketeers references, since the angel was reading the books. Castiel just wished Dean would stop referring to himself as Athos - even though the resemblence between the two was uncanny - and Sam, Aramis - no matter how funny it was. By default, Cas became Porthos and d'Artagnan, since he was apparently a mix of the two. He tried to hide it, but it secretly pleased him that Dean researched the books so much just because the angel was reading them and even if the jokes were terrible, they were also funny... in a stupid sort of way.

Taking off his trench coat, Cas sighed and stalked over to the mini-fridge. He was parched and craved something to drink, alcoholic or not. Peering into the confines brought him nothing satisfying - only Mountain Dew and grape Fanta.

"What... the hell?" he muttered to himself. To say the angel was disappointed would be an understatement. It wasn't often that Cas asked for something, and the only things he asked for from the brothers were patience, no awkward moments, and Barq's rootbeer. He had assumed he could count on the rootbeer, but apparently he was wrong. Standing up, the angel played with the hem of his ACDC t-shirt before closing the fridge door.

"Whatever..." Castiel plopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He could feel his metabolism already breaking down the alcohol in his system. The angel groaned - he really didn't want to sober up.

Reaching for the remote, he turned on the cheap television set, hoping to find something worthwhile to watch, but of course it was all over-religious hypocrites preaching to hypocritical idiots; cooking shows; stupid cartoons; boring, inaccurate news stations; and hardcore, badly written, unrealistic porn. But, all things considering, he settled on the porn. After picking the best out of the five - which wasn't saying much; the girl was a "naughty nurse" bearing a huge rack with unrealistic cleavage, bright crimson lips, and long, straight brunette hair; the guy fucking her was super muscley, with tan skin and dark hair and was probably an asshole - he chucked the remote across the room and spread his legs casually, stretching tendons and making himself comfortable. At least the moaning was actually arousing. No screaming either.

"Bonus."

Castiel hated it when the girls screamed in pornos. It was terrible, and the sound should be illegal. And Cas knew the Winchesters agreed. For the past couple of months the boys had been teaching him basically every human experience they could think of, since this time the angel was staying put and was pretty clueless. Dean even bothered to have "the talk" with him, causing the angel to be extremely uncomfortable and the reason behind the whole "no awkward moments" rule. Though, there had been a worthwhile experience from it.

Castiel had learned to kiss, what exactly turned him on, and just how loud Dean could scream. So, y'know, a good experience over all. Besides the talking part, that is. Then the week after that, sensing that Cas was sexually unsatisfied, since he and Dean couldn't find a spare moment, Sam had taken it upon himself to find some pretty damn good pornos, send Dean on a case, and lock himself and Castiel in the motel together. So for the next 14 hours, Sam had taught the angel how to relieve himself, dispell a hard-on in about three seconds, and had broken the "no awkward moments" rule. Mainly by being gay, without being gay - and Cas didn't want to read into it any further than that. By the next week, Cas had discovered fanfiction - mainly Becky's. And she was rather good. Even though Chuck hadn't written about the angel, the word had been spread and pairings were all over the internet. Wincest, Destiel, Sastiel, _Wincestiel_, even Sabriel had managed to make the internet, along with a Dean/Gabriel category. But then there were even weirder pairings. He had been paired with Balthazar, Crowley, Bobby, Anna, Uriel, Gabriel, Lucifer, Micheal, Jimmy, Jess, and even John, the brothers' father. And he was absolutely clueless about how that had happened. But what brought his thoughts hurtling back to the present was the discovery of Megstiel.

It suddenly felt hot, way too hot, hotter than it should have been. A moan sounded from the television and it sounded so dirty and lustful. The angel closed his eyes, imagining those moans coming from somewhere completely different. His pants felt ungodly tight and he was seriously contemplating deadbolting the door and letting his fantasies control his actions when he heard voices outside and a key in the lock. Castiel nearly panicked, but managed to get rid of his boner, thank to Sam's Jedi training. He sent a silent prayer to wherever and jumped to turn off the TV. By the time the Winchesters made it inside, Cas was just kneeling down to look back in the mini-fridge.

"Cas, where the hell have you been you son of a bitch?"

The angel looked up from the fridge, adopting an innocent look and smiled. "I was at a bar. Is that a problem, Dean?"

Dean stood in the doorway, plastic bags in one hand, room key in the other. Sam stood behind him, holding a case of Barq's rootbeer. Castiel felt his mouth water at the sight.

The older Winchester sighed and walked over, dumping his bags on the floor. "And you didn't bother to bring your phone?"

The angel shrugged. "It was dead. Wouldn't have been any help if I _had_ brought it."

Dean looked like he was ready to pop a blood vessel, but Cas didn't care. There was rootbeer in the vicinity. Taking the box from Sam, he retrieved a can from the confines and cracked it open. It tasted so good he almost wanted to cry. But something else lingered in the back in his mind that tasted much sweeter than rootbeer.

_Damn it, Meg..._

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><p><em>Okay, that was a horrible fic, and you hate me now, but you still have two more chapters to read! If you dare.<br>__*insert maniacal laughter*_


	2. Dirty, Sweet, Coveted Blasphemy

Very much dirtier than the last fic (well, only in the beginning). Just sayin. Also written when sick. But the title makes sense this time!

**Summary:** Chapter two, following "Sweeter than Rootbeer?" obviously... Cas is feeling pretty down, especially after Dean snaps. Maybe a certain demon can help? Part two of a most likely three part fic.  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Humor/Romance  
><strong>Rated:<strong> M, again, but this time for more obvious reasons.  
><strong>Language:<strong> Bloody English!  
><strong>Length: <strong>3, 200-ish words.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I own nothing recognizable... I'm poor anyways, so don't sue. You'll just get the fanfiction, it's all I have...

**Warning:** Angel masturbation/blasphemy within. Always fun times, right? Also just a pretty bad fic in general. But I had to do it. My brain held me hostage.

Note: I get the Three Muskteers references make no sense (even though I think there's only one in the beginning of this one...), but I just recently got into them, and the musketeers just remind me of the Supernatural boys, so it couldn't be helped... Don't know what the hell I'm talking about, look it up on Wikipedia - that place it amazing...

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><p>Castiel woke up soaked in sweat and tangled in bed sheets. His cock throbbed painfully, and it took him a moment to realize that he was naked besides his boxers. Dean stood over him, smiling evilly.<p>

"Morning, Porthos. I see someone had a wet dream last night."

The angel felt his face grow red hot, and he hastened to sit up and turn away. Dean's grin got wider as he moved back into Cas' line of vision.

"Aw... you're adorable," the older Winchester crooned, just as Sam emerged from the bathroom.

"Dean, leave the poor guy alone. Jesus H. Christ..." Sam huffed, rolling his eyes.

Castiel nodded in thanks, then lightly smacked Dean's forehead, pushing him away. Dean shrugged, and walked to the fridge, unaffected. Stretching, the angel stood and headed carefully towards the bathroom for a much needed shower. He shut the door forcefully behind him and locked it, relieved that he had some alone time. For the moment. Rubbing his temple, he turned on the shower slowly and let the water run as he pulled down his boxers.

His thoughts were _still_ on Meg, who had plagued his dreams all of last night and tortured him with those lips, that smile, that soft, seductive touch that drove him over the edge again, and again, and again...

Before he knew it, he was in the shower, letting the hot water wash over him as thoughts of Meg took over. Front and center was the memory of when he had kissed her in front of the Winchesters without a care. Originally, he blamed it on the porn he had watched the previous night, with the pizza man. Then it was human reflex. Then on Jimmy, after that, the fact he was in a male vessel. But recently, he had come to terms with what had happened. Subconsciously, he wanted something more from the demon. Much more.

In his mind's eye, he saw her arching into him, digging her nails into his back as he bit her neck; her legs wrapping around his waist; her cool fingers making their way down his chest, his stomach, across his hip.

His breath hitched in his throat as his need became apparent. Suppressing a groan, he ran his fingers up and down his shaft, eyes shut tight as he imagined the demon brushing her fingertips ever-so-gently along his cock; he saw himself bite her bottom lip and she moaned and kissed him deeply, grabbing at him, making him buck up into her hand. Cas groaned quietly as he saw Meg pumping his cock slowly, a smile gracing those pretty lips as she panted against his neck. Castiel gasped as his thumb swiped over the tip of his penis, precome aiding him as his fantasy became hotter, and he pumped harder, then, suddenly, it all became to much. White sparked behind his eyelids and his body shook with his building orgasm. Cas swallowed hard, biting his tongue as he came, letting out a strangled sort of moan.

When the tremors stopped, he opened his eyes, slowly letting his surroundings come into focus. Warm water ran over his figure, washing his seed down the drain. Gasping he caught his breath and reached for a wash cloth.

He _really_ needed to wash up.

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><p>By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Sam and Dean were about half-way through Freddy vs Jason. Castiel sighed. He considered the Jason movies to be frankly, idiotic. He did find Freddy pretty creepy though - any guy with a damned striped sweater and fedora and friggin' metal-clawed glove that creeped around in your dreams and killed you in your sleep was a little more than enough to give him the jeepers. What was worse, though, was when Dean made fun of the "big-bad angel" who was afraid of an essential "little vengeful spirit" when he had single-handedly fought "horrible, horrible monsters" without "batting an eyelash."<p>

Cas coughed from the doorway, trying not to look at the TV as Freddy sneered.

Dean looked up and flashed him a toothy grin. "Hey hey, big boy, what took ya so long?"

The angel frowned and walked over to his duffel, swiping it off the floor. Sam looked up as well and watched as Cas flitted about the room, throwing his possessions into it. Cas tried not to look at either of them, but he could feel the heat spreading to his ears and he had to look up into those laughing green eyes.

"I was taking a shower, _Dean,_" he huffed, flashing a bitch-face before zipping up the duffel and flinging it over his shoulder.

"Are we going or what?"

The older Winchester snickered as he rose to his feet, stretching his arms up over his head. Sam ran a hand through his hair before standing as well and reaching for his laptop. Cas observed, while still jutting out his bottom lip rather haughtily, that the rest of their stuff had already been taken out to the Impala. Making sure the Winchesters were right behind him, he stalked out the door straight to Dean's car.

"Pop the trunk...please," he added last second, gathering enough common sense to remember that Dean had had a short fuse lately.

But Dean was still smirking as he opened up the trunk, and even took the duffel from him, throwing it in the trunk before heading to the driver's side. Castiel pursed his lips before climbing into the back of the Impala. He dreaded the long drive to come - the angel could feel a migraine forming slowly and he knew that at the turn of a key, Dean would be blaring his music, driving way too fast and recklessly, and brewing in his own thoughts, meaning that soon enough, all of them would definately be a bundle of nerves by the time they arrived back at Bobby's to check in.

_Oh, goody..._

* * *

><p>Of course, Castiel had been right.<p>

The first hour or so of the ride "home" had gone pretty smoothly - Dean kept the music down, and Cas took a short nap in the back seat, sleeping through the worst of the migraine.

But then it all went downhill from there.

Cas didn't even know what the hell had happened; all he knew was that when he had woken up, Dean and Sam were arguing in not-so-hushed tones up front.

_I knew all that joking around was covering up something... _was his first foggy thought. He could tell, not because he could understand yet what they were saying, but from the tone of Dean's unsteady voice.

"Sam, _no_, you don't **understand**!"

"I know, but I could try if you would just _talk_ to me, Dean," Sam said, and the angel could tell he was straining to keep himself from yelling right back.

Dean shook his head, slapping the steering wheel furiously.

"Sam, I _am_ talking to you! You're just not _listening_!"

"No, I _am_ **listening**! You wanna know _why_? Because you _never_ **talk**, and when you do, it's usually pretty _damn_ important, so I tend to_ listen_! **_Okay_**? And what you're doing now _isn't_ talking, what you're doing is yelling and blaming shit on _Cas_ because he's _there_!"

At the sound of his name, Cas sat up a little, perching himself on his elbows instead of lying down face-first on the leather seat.

Dean growled low in his throat, his features flashing between rage and pain.

"Sammy, you just have no idea what's been happening to me..." he whispered.

"Dean, I'm seeing Lucifer ride my ass daily. I'm pretty sure I get it," Sam said, a little harshly.

The older Winchester bit his tongue, then glared out the windshield.

"It's just... he _went_ and _left_, and I **hated** him for it, accepted the fact that he was long gone and that we were gonna _die_, but then he showed up and said he needed help and let us get rid of the souls, and _he said he was sorry_, and I **believed** him, and then I thought he was dead, but he came back and said he would _repay us_ and fix _everything_, but then he got taken over by the damn Leviathan, and then he died for good, and he was gone for months, and _I accepted that_, but then..." Dean sucked in a steadying breath before continuing, "..._he came back, Sammy_. He came back... but things haven't been the same... something's different, something's _wrong_... and I feel like he's not him anymore, and I can't... _handle_ that... Sam, it's pretty much as bad as it was when you came back soulless. Or when you were with Ruby... I didn't know when you were Sam, or when you were her bitch, and now I still don't know who either of you are..." Dean confessed.

Cas felt something inside him constrict, and suddenly he sat up straight as Sam prepared for a heated, tearful retailiation.

"_Dean_... if that's how you feel- **Dean**, _you should have said something_. I could have left - _I could still leave_," the angel whispers, teeth bared as tears well in his eyes. He's hurt, _he really is_. But mainly, Cas just feels like an idiot. He shouldn't have come back, the whole concept was stupid, there was no way that things could go back to normal, and now he had made everything worse...

_Damn_, there was that miraine again, making every sound feel like a sharp stab to the brain, amplifying Dean's words.

It takes a second for the older hunter to realize that Cas heard everything he said, but only one more for him to throw something back fiercely.

"Fine then, just leave me again, _dammit Cas, just **go**_. Again! And don't _you dare come back_ this time!" Dean yells, a single tear falling down his cheek.

Castiel pauses, now he can tell Dean is seriously hurt, and that he should do something to help. Something he said hit where it hurt, but just as he's about to react, Dean stops the car, hitting the brakes hard, and turns around.

"Cas, I thought you wanted to go!"

Another pause. "But-" the angel starts, but is interrupted by Dean's shattering voice, quiet, but powerful.

"Cas...go. _Please._"

And with a flutter of wings, he was gone.

* * *

><p>It really didn't surprise him that he was alone. In a bar. Again. Only this time, the angel had managed to find a quiet, out-of-the-way bar where the only sounds were the tinking of glasses, the pouring of liqour, hushed blues sounding from an old jukebox, quiet chatter, and the sound of his breathing as he stared blankly into his glass of whiskey. The bartender had taken pity on his sorry appearance and gave him his first round free, if he promised he would have a second. And a third. And a fourth.<p>

Castiel had confidently said "yes" and "better make it a double." _Or just give me the whole damn bottle._

It also didn't surprise him to hear a familiar voice in his ear, soft and a little prudent.

_"So, just how many shots will it take to wash away all the hurt in a pretty-much-fallen angel?"_

Cas sighed and muttered, "We meet again, Meg." He downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth. "Why are you here? Are you following me?" he asked, a little leery.

Meg laughed her musical little laugh and turned his face towards her, her hand softly caressing the stubble on his cheek.

"Honey, I don't need to follow you. You're just too predictable."

Castiel wanted to grimace, to turn away, and disappear, but he didn't. Instead he closed his eyes, welcoming her touch, savoring it.

"Clarence, what's wrong, hun?" he heard her ask. The angel opened his blue eyes at her tone.

"A- are you concerned about me, or am I delusional, Meg?" The question was genuine, but it also sounded slightly teasing. The demon pouted, making Castiel want to tackle her then and there, but then she sat beside him, leaning on the bar, and sighed.

"I could be worried... or I could just be nosy. You choose."

The angel bit his lip, his cheek tingling where she had touched it. He stared into those big brown eyes and tilted his head, trying to read her, find a motive, any motive, as to why she should be concerned with his well-being.

"I'm going with nosy... it's simpler."

"Well then feed my curiosity. What's going on?"

Castiel licked his lips and searched her eyes. What he saw made him look away. _Tenderness, empathy, worry. _"It's...complicated..." he murmered, avoiding her gaze, but a soft _"Cas"_ made him look up. He was actually rather taken aback - no one had ever said his name like that, not even Dean.

"Yes...?"

"What's wrong?" She paused. "Did something happen between you and the boys?" Castiel didn't even have to reply. The answer was clear on his face.

"Oh, hun, what happened?" Meg asked, and Cas couldn't find the words to explain. She stared at him intently, pretty red lips pursed, brown eyes sad. The angel wondered what parallel universe he had to be in in order for this demon to actually care about his little problems with Dean and Sam. Mainly Dean. The angel gave her a strangled sort of look and sighed. Meg bit her lip nervously.

He flinched slightly as her hand rested lightly on his thigh, but otherwise remained still. Nothing happened for several minutes. People shuffled around the bar, blues turned into old rock and roll, but the angel and demon in the corner didn't dare move.

At least not until Meg swallowed, rubbed Cas' leg tenderly and whispered, "Cas, I'm sorry things aren't working out..."

He slowly looked into her eyes and scoffed. "Yeah... me too," he muttered, and motioned for the bartender. Meg watched as his glass was refilled, and as he picked it up and held it too his lips and drank. The angel caught her eye as he set down the glass, and she hurriedly looked away.

"Meg?" he murmered, voice low.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you here? Like this? With me? What do you want?"

There was a long pause and Cas closed his eyes, content to just sit and wait while the heat from Meg's hand warmed the cold skin under his jeans. He heard her intake several breaths in order to voice an answer, but none made it out. His ear suddenly twitched as her warm hand reached up to swipe a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, tuck a few more behind his ear, and finally come to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers moving soothingly in a circular motion.

"Castiel, what do you want?" she breathed in his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Opening his eyes he sighed. Slowly, he looked to his right to see Meg gazing at him, fire burning in her eyes. Several emotions were hidden there, just beneath the surface. He took a deep breath, considering all the possible outcomes, then shook his head. _Damn it all. _Cas ran his fingers down her extended arm to her shoulder, eyes following his fingers. He looked at her briefly, meeting her eyes, then grabbed her by the jacket, ramming her body into his. Her neck snapped backwards and he lurched forward so that they were nose to nose. "Meg," he whispered harshly. The angel could hear her heartbeat escalate, along with her breathing, and he felt himself smile. His hand shifted from her shoulder, up her back, and finally to her neck, moving her so that their lips brushed. He laughed harshly when she closed her eyes, savoring the wrongness of it all.

"I'll ask one more time, Meg. What do you want? Do you want this?"

His answer came in the form of a long, sweet, hungry kiss that promised so much more if he would only say the word.

When he pulled away, she growled menacingly and stretched to reconnect their lips. Cas smiled. That was all the answer he needed.

* * *

><p><em>Aha! Cliffhanger! What now, ey?<br>__I'm sorry for any spelling errors you may have discovered. Some asshole is burning leaves by my house, and it's giving me a killer migraine. It probably doesn't help that it's one o'clock either, though... Oh well. One more chapter, lovelies._


	3. Broken Silence and Dented Dumpsters

_Jay-sus_! It's been... *calculates in my head* Over **_three months_**! I'm so sorry ***shame*** Anyways, I've recently kicked procrastination in the ass, and I finally found the inspiration to write this.

Really, guys, I am sorry it took so long. But you also have at least two more Supernatural stories and a Lord of the Rings fic to look forward to in the coming month, so y'know. Keep a look out for that.

And an extra thanks to those who favorited and are following this story. I'm really proud, and it makes my day when I open my inbox and see all these emails from fanfiction saying someone liked this story.

**Summary:** Chapter three, following "Dirty, Sweet, Coveted Blasphemy." Not really sure what's going to be in here. I have a plan set up, but since my stories never go as planned... Here goes.  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Hurt/Comfort/Romance  
><strong>Rated:<strong> M, just cause.  
><strong>Language:<strong> English, mate.  
><strong>Length: <strong>Bout 2, 400-ish words kind of...  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I own nothing recognizable. Again, I'm poor, so please don't sue. (Seriously, I got three bucks to my name...) Also contains an AU within this AU. Actually, _may_ contain quite a few, just because there are a lot of gaps in the actual Supernatural storyline, y'know? Plus it's so fun. *evil grin*

**Warning: **Cas and Meg get it on. I know, I know. I'm a Destiel shipper by heart, but I promise I'll get some Dean/Cas fics in eventually for you that want it. Not one of my finest fics, but oh well... had inspiration, then I had to sleep and lost it...

*as I type* _..._So_ not enough Dean/Sam in this story... then again it _is_ about Cas and Meg... Silly Abby, what are you thinking? Hahaha._

_Note: I realize in the first fic Bobby is alive and in this one he's dead (as pointed out to me by my friend Dean...) but three months ago, Bobby was alive and well in Supernatural, [SPOILER ALERT] now he's dead... So, yeah... Fixing that now...  
><em>

* * *

><p>Silence.<p>

Not the usual comfortable silence that happens when two people in close quarters have nothing to say to each other, so each is content to to think about what they will.

_Oh, no._

It was that uncomfortable silence that spawns from one in silent, stubborn turmoil that simply wants to muddle in his own poisonous thoughts until he breaks down and shoves those thoughts to the farthest recesses of his brain (only to have them leap out at the ugliest times in the ugliest ways); and another who is trying to figure out how to make it all better, but quite can't knock out all of the kinks in his head.

At least that was always how it was between Sam and Dean Winchester.

Sam had spent countless hours he would never get back painfully listening to that silence. The kind where the radio wasn't even on, and the sound of the motor running, or the tires spinning on well-travelled roads barely penetrated it. The kind that pressed on your eardrums until you thought they were going to burst; the kind where you didn't dare breathe, where the air was so still you didn't dare move, just in case the whole world would shatter. There were few times Sam would purposely break this silence, and it always ended badly.

But, as Dean sat next to him, tense and unmoving, eyes fixed to the long road ahead, Sam decided, a little apprehensively, that this was one of those _shit_ times where it could only get even _worse_ (if that was possible, by the way) before it got _any better_. But,_ before_ Sam stepped on a land mine, he needed a strategy... Not that it could possibly _help_, but it couldn't **hurt**, right? _Right?_

* * *

><p><em>Wow. He does <em>not_ taste anything like I imagined... _Meg thought foggily, tongue twining hungrily with his. _I expected vanilla...or angel food cake. Something sweet. But he's actually a little sour... kinda tangy. Like lemonade with barely enough sugar. Or orange juice. Maybe Smarties... _She really couldn't describe it. But the demon found this taste to be more to her liking. It was different. Unexpected. And she liked that. She liked that a lot.

Her ears popped suddenly, and a gust of wind brushed past her cheek. The sounds of the bar - glasses tinking, quiet music, hushed chit-chat - evaporated and were replaced by the hollow sound of wind moving and faint city noises. _An alley._ The demon opened her eyes slowly and pulled away from Castiel. He brazenly met her gaze and took a brisk step backwards. He was beginning to get that look in his eyes again; that little window that almost let you see into his soul (well, if he had one). The angel no longer looked like a near-carbon copy of Dean Winchester, with the silent turmoil and the stony eyes that hid all the pain and crap; now he was starting to look like himself. Chaste; small; _vulnerable_. Eyes so blue and watery they were melting ice - and looked just as fragile.

She blinked when he turned from her, shoulders hunched. His fingers curled and uncurled repetitively, unnerving her. It especially made her uneasy that she couldn't see his face. The demon had no idea what he was thinking. And that was a little scary. To her, he was a ticking time-bomb, ready to blow with no notice at all, to shatter into an irreparable mess at a time no one could forsee.

And Meg had no words to express her hatred for Dean Winchester at what he had done to her angel.

* * *

><p>Dean's mouth twitched a few times in that silence; sometimes a smile, sometimes an even heavier frown. His knuckles were pure white, and he clenched and unclenched the steering wheel repeatedly. Occasionally he would clamp his jaw, then relax, but only for a moment. Every move tense, small, imperceptible. Sam glanced over at him again and again, eyes overflowing with worry, but Dean never moved. Never looked away from the road. Barely blinked.<p>

Sam tried to keep a straight face and stare at the road like his big brother, but it was a lost cause. The younger Winchester found himself apprehensively looking over at his brother every few seconds, hoping Dean wasn't feeling as pained as he looked. Sam knew his brother better than anyone (except maybe Cas, but after tonight, the angel might be out of the picture) and he understood just how much Castiel meant to his brother. They had been through everything together, including the time Dean had gotten influenza. Not the actual _flu_, Sam had only hoped and prayed, _nope_, **influenza**. As in, the flu, but like, a thousand times worse.

His big brother almost had to be hospitalized - in fact, Sam would have taken him, if the damn cops weren't right on their tail. Sam would do anything for his brother, but he absolutely would _not_ risk getting Dean locked up when he was that sick. Never. If his brother was going to die, it was going to be with him, not trapped in some iron cell, too ill to defend himself from being someone's bitch. Hell no.

Dean might have died, if Castiel hadn't found the juice to help him. Sam remembered that very clearly. Castiel had been almost in tears, sitting next to Dean's bed with the most pitiful expression Sam had ever seen. The younger Winchester had been trying to reach Bobby frantically, to no avail. Suddenly, the angel had clasped Dean's hand in his, eyes full of purpose, and laid ever-so-gently a soft hand over Dean's heart. The elder hunter coughed a few times, eyes watering and (Sam hated to think of it) fearful. Cas' lips had twitched upwards comfortingly, and Dean noticeably calmed. After that, he had fallen asleep.

Beside him, Dean shared the same memories. Cas had saved his life several times, given the older Winchester his all, and Dean had returned the favor too little, with too many expectations and not enough understanding. It was all on him if Castiel never came back. The angel deserved to run and never look back, to not have to put up with his crap anymore.

The only problem was Dean had no idea if he could find a way to live without his angel again. He had had to find a way to live without Cas too many times, and Dean didn't know if he could take it anymore. Actually, he did know. He _couldn't_ take it. He was bound to lose Sam at some point, and now his angel was gone and was probably never coming back.

Sam caught something out of the corner of his eye that almost made him think he was delusional. After what seemed like years, Dean had actually moved. His brother sniffed, blinked, straightened his arms, then shook his head a bit. Sam watched silently as one tear rolled down his big brother's cheek.

* * *

><p>Castiel's finger's twitched, one by one. Glassy eyes gazed at nothing tangible, but instead at something in his own mind. Meg watched soundlessly the angel's back. Her gaze caught each stiff breath, every muscle that twitched. The angel bristled, and she heard his teeth strain as he clenched his jaw. She longed to know what was going on in his head. Maybe then she could find a way to help, despite her knowing that she should feel differently about this angel. What was so special about him, this one <em>Feather<em>? _Everything, from his attitude to the clothes on his back._

Cas abruptly seized all movement. He could have been a statue. He didn't breathe, his heart didn't beat. He lost all life for a single moment. Meg's world was held in a calm suspense.

Then, **chaos**.

The angel whirled on his heel to face her. Brown met blue for an instant before Cas reeled to face the large dumpster at the back of the alley and raise his foot. There was no thought to his actions, just pent up emotion that had finally clawed its way to the surface. The angel kicked the dumpster again and again and again, leaving huge, ugly dents in the metal. Each powerful kick was met with an earth-shattering bang that made Meg flinch and cover her ears with each blow.

The demon didn't bother keeping time, all she knew was that Castiel had finally stopped. He was breathing heavily, each one catching in his throat. His ears and the back of his neck were scarlet. His shirt was soaked with sweat. At last, he turned around. Timid blue orbs watched as Meg lowered her hands and straightened herself. All pride and arrogance had left her, and in its place fear had taken root.

Castiel drew a deep, hitching breath and bowed his head. _"Meg...?"_

A dry swallow. _"...Yeah, Feathers?"_

_"I... I need help, Meg..."_

"I know, Sweetheart."

_I know..._

* * *

><p>Sam sighed.<em> Better now than never...[?]<em>

He cleared his throat. Dean didn't move.

"Dean..." _No response._

"_Dean_." _Nothing._

"_**Dean**_." _A brief, stinging glance in his direction._

"Dean, it's gonna be okay. He'll come back."

Sam waited patiently for a response from Dean, but none ever came. His brother just blinked repeatedly, lips pursed and brow furrowed. The younger Winchester literally squirmed in his seat. The silence was getting worse by the minute. It was closing in on him from every direction, heightening his senses and putting him in an even worse state of anxiety. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Dean, say something, _please_! You can't just wallow in all this crap, it'll kill you! Hell, it's killing me, and it's not even really any of my business!" Sam pleaded, hoping his brother would react _somehow_, good or bad. "Dean, talk it out with me - I don't care if you have to yell and scream, just talk to me. _Please_."

His brother paused for so long, Sam opened his mouth to resume his plea, but shut it instantly as Dean finally responded.

"_Why_?"

It was Sam's turn to pause. The first thing that came to mind was, '_Because you're my brother, and I want to make you happy more than anything in the world, so just talk to me you dumb-fuck. I love you. More than anything_,' but what came out of his mouth was, "'Cause... Just... _'cause_."

Dean bit his lip, contemplating. Then he started talking.

* * *

><p>"Oh, come 'ere Sweetie," Meg crooned as Cas' chin his his chest. She could tell he was trying his best to keep it all in, Dean had taught him well in the art of manliness, but he couldn't keep himself together alone forever.<p>

He took a step towards her and stopped, planting his feet. Meg sighed softly, but closed the rest of the space between them. The demon stood on her tip-toes to wrap her arms around his neck and rest her chin on his shoulder. They stood there like that for a few minutes before she fel his arms snake around her waist and a cold nose press into her neck.

"You know what really sucks?"

"A Dirt Devil?" Meg guessed, smiling wryly.

The angel ignored her humor and continued.

"I still love him. Even when he's an ass, know he deserves to be, and I know exactly why."

"That's great, Clarence..." she murmured quietly, not really focusing on what he was saying. The demon was a little more interested in the way Cas was slowly trailing her lower back with his fingertips, just barely, but enough to be a turn-on. Meg tried to bite back a mewl of pleasure, but _damn_ the angel's perfect hearing.

"Are you alright Meg?" he inquired, a little teasing.

_Poor Clarence,_ she thought idly. _No idea what he's getting into... Probably afraid to._

"Oh Hell, just come here!" she exclaimed suddenly, pressing her lips firmly to his. Seconds later, it was as if they were never there. (Well, except for the dumpster.)

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so I'm just gonna move the smut to the next one. I really wasn't planning on making this longer than three parts, but it seems like I have to now... It fits better. Sorry to make you wait, guys... I'll be done with the next one soon, though, I swear!<em>


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